His Prences
by SourCherryJuice
Summary: If Elizaveta hated Sadik so much, how was it she kept finding herself in his bed? Turkey x Hungary, human names used, rated M for a reason! Heterotalia lemon!


Warning: This is a TurkHun lemon. There's also a bit of bad language. If you don't like it, please refrain from reading it!

Anyway, this morning I had the strangest, strongest urge to write a lemon, and this is what that urge amounted to. Since I have a bit of a weak spot for love/hate relationships, and TurkHun (Or whatever it's called) is one of my favorites, as well as a love/hate pairing, I decided to do something for them. I imagine this as being when Hungary was part of the Ottoman Empire, given there's mention of Sadik owning a harem, so... Enjoy! :3

His Prences

She hates him.

Right?

She hates no one on Earth more than the Turk she's currently in bed with. Hell, she hates Sadik more than she hates Gilbert, and that s saying something!

But, oh, the way his lips and teeth and tongue are working so insistently against the most intimate part of her is making it impossible for her to hate him at the moment. Elizaveta gasps, her back arching as Sadik's teeth brush her clit, her fingers disentangling from the sheets to slide through his hair. She can easily feel the feral smirk cross his face, the movement causing his beard to scratch roughly against her inner thighs, and she gasps again.

"Hurry up..." Her voice is nothing more than a soft, raspy growl, and she feels her face flush a bit because of it, her eyes darting off to the side, unable meet the intense, unmasked amber gaze that's now focused on her.

"Don't tell me what to do, prences." His voice, however, is the complete opposite: Strong, confident, completely unyielding. She had always felt an unwilling respect for that tone. Even now, it makes her shiver, and Sadik doesn't fail to take notice of it, smirking once more. "You want it that badly?"

Elizaveta rolls her eyes, scoffing out, "Obviously!"

She doesn't even need to look at him to tell that his eyes have gone cold, and his voice matches: "Don't push your luck."

She scoffs again, propping herself up on her elbows so she can glare down at him with those pretty green eyes. "I wouldn't have to if you would just give me what I wanted!"

"So tell me what you want," the Turk says, shrugging his shoulders, his lips curling slightly, though he seems to be trying to hide it.

"You know what I want!" Elizaveta all but cries, frustrated and angry as she flops back down. "Just do it!"

"Beg me, then."

She doesn't even bother to look him in the eyes, glaring up at the ceiling. "Absolutely not."

"Then I guess I'll see you later."

Elizaveta doesn't take him seriously at first, though that changes when she feels him slide off the end of the bed. "You're really leaving?" she asks, her voice soft.

"Why the hell not?" he asks, wrapping the sheet around his waist, not even bothering with his pants. "I've got an entire harem I can go to. Who do you have?"

Heaving a dramatic sigh, Elizaveta sits up. The necklaces and bracelets and anklets - The only thing covering her skin - jingle as she moves, crawling to the edge of the bed. "Fine," she says, settling on her knees and forearms, eyeing the older nation. Her voice is monotonous as she says the next few words: "Sadik, please fuck me."

That infamous smirk returns as the sheet drops and Sadik makes his way back to the bed, standing directly in front of the Hungarian. "You're gonna have to try harder than that, prences."

Rolling her eyes again, Elizaveta scoots to the very edge of the bed, craning her neck far enough that she can just barely stroke her tongue against the head of his cock. The soft growl that escapes him at that slight action spurs her on, as do the hands suddenly sliding into her hair. She delivers a long, sensuous lick to the vein running the underside and Sadik hisses, his hands tightening in her hair.

Unable - And unwilling - to hide her smirk, Elizaveta gazes up into the Turk's lust-darkened eyes. "Better?" she asks, licking her lips.

"A bit," he says, "but..." He pushes his hips forward, brushing his cock against her face, smearing precum across her cheek. "You can do better."

"Ugh, you're disgusting..." Elizaveta snarls, using the sheet Sadik wore around his waist earlier to scrub the sticky mess from her face.

"And you're gonna let me fuck you anyway," he points out, smirking wolfishly down at her. "What does that say about you, prences?"

"Stop calling me that!"

"No." His hips move forward again, but this time, she manages to get her mouth around him.

She slides her tongue against the slit, holding him deep, and Sadik lets out a moan, a low, husky sound that makes her want him even more. So she pulls her head back, placing her teeth gently against the head, and sucks hard.

This gets an even better reaction than she had expected.

Sadik pulls Elizaveta up by her hair, yanking her up to her knees, pulling her into a rough kiss, his tongue diving into her mouth without a moment's hesitation. He's too distracted to notice when she shifts, settling with her thighs on either side of his hips, her legs hanging off the edge of the bed, her body pressed flush to his. There's no penetration, however, and Sadik takes it upon himself to set that right.

She gasps, snaking her arms around his neck and holding him close as he pushes into her, not even bothering to give her time to adjust. She's nothing to him; why should he treat her gently? Of course, the way she's panting and gasping and rolling her hips to meet his and raking her nails down his back, it's apparent that he isn't hurting her.

At least, he's not hurting her to the point where she's telling him to stop. In fact, it's proven to be the complete opposite when she whispers to him, "Harder."

She doesn't get what she wants.

Instead, Sadik takes hold of her shoulders, pushing her down onto her back, his body soon covering hers. "I already told you, prences," he says, his voice deep and dangerous, "do not tell me what to do."

Elizaveta, for once, keeps her mouth shut, and Sadik soon smirks down at her, his hips soon moving once more. He sets a harsh, punishing pace, the sound of skin on skin louder than his growls and Elizaveta's pants and gasps and moans.

The sound level soon rises, though, when Sadik reaches down to cup her left breast, and a soft, startled yelp escapes her lips.

Those lips...

Unable to resist, Sadik leans down to capture those soft, damp lips with his own, his tongue soon joining in the fun.

"I'm close," Elizaveta manages to whimper out, pulling away slightly, not complaining at all when the Turk's lips attach to her neck.

"Is that right?"

Sadik's back bows as he moves his lips to her breast, lapping gently at the soft skin for a moment before he bites down hard on the underside.

Elizaveta cries out sharply in response, her back arching, pressing herself closer to him, her hands flying to his hair once again.

It isn't until Sadik's left hand slips from her hip, moving to play against her clit, that she finally comes.

The tight, hot muscles clenching around his cock are enough to send the Turk over the edge as well, shooting liquid heat into the Hungarian beneath him.

She visibly winces at that, and he just smirks before he pulls out, moving to lie beside her on the large, overstuffed bed. "You're disgusting," she says to him again, her voice still raspy.

"And you love it."

"Whatever." She rolls so she's facing away from him, though she can't help but shiver when she feels his mouth on her neck. "I hate you," she adds, though her voice betrays her true feelings, and Sadik knows it.

Elizaveta hisses when he bites down on her neck, and she jerks away from him. "What was that for?" she growls, still on her side, glaring up at him.

"You're a liar."

"How do you figure that?" she snaps.

Sadik just smirks down at her. "You don't hate me."

"Yes, I do."

"You love me, prences."

Elizaveta does her best to keep her eyes on the far wall, as far away from Sadik as she can get them.

He nuzzles her neck, his stubble lightly scraping against sensitive skin, and she squirms a bit, trying to pull away. Of course, he refuses to let her get away, wrapping his arms around her hips and pulling her close. "You can deny it all you want, prences," he purrs into her ear, "but we both know the truth."

So there you have it! Enjoy and remember, reviews and constructive criticism are welcome!

Oh, also: Prences means princess in Turkish, and I imagine it as more of a taunt than a term of endearment :3 


End file.
